'Cause when I say, "Go to sleep,"
It means, "I love you."
Or when I tell you to eat,
That means, "Hey I care."
When you tell me that you love me,
I call you an idiot,
That's me saying it back but with the equivalence of stupidity.
You are the reason I stay awake at night and dream with my eyes open,
You are the stars in my dark sea that I have been constantly trying to drown myself in,
You are,
For Gods sake's,
My Planet Earth because what else is going to supply me the oxygen I need when my brain says,
"Don't breathe."
You make me not want to die when all I could think of is dying cause you know,
You are my alarm clock to when I sleep in,
My everyday phone call,
My back up plan when my back up plan needs a back up plan.
There are a billion of people out here that could have chosen me to deal with but you,
You at least tolerate me.
Thank you for the tolerance, at least.

Leonila Jun 13

It is written

It is written in the stars,
the story of who I am.
It is written in the stars,
my beginning and my end.

My heart is inditing a good matter.
I speak of the things which I have made touching the King:
my tongue is the pen of a ready writer.

It is written in the stars,
how You called me and set me apart.
It is written in the stars,
how I am Your loving work of art.
It is written in the stars,
the divine path, You have laid out for me to follow.
It is written in the stars,
today, I choose You and Your name I will hollow.
It is written in the stars,
You write the lines of my life,
I am the book of which Your love tells of,
written in the skies.
It is written in the stars,
You have fashioned with care, every detail of me.
It is written in the stars,
In You, I have life, In You I am free.
It is written in the stars,
You number my days, I am in Your hands.
It is written in the stars,
I am your romance and Your sealed promise and plan.
It is written in the stars,
You are mine and I am yours.
It is written in the stars,
Of your infinite love, I will write and speak for.
It is written in the stars,
I am Your bride, You are my King.
It is written in the stars,
The story of Your love for me,
recorded in Your scars.

My heart is inditing a good matter.
I speak of the things which I have made touching the King:
My tongue is the pen of a ready writer.

It is the written in the stars,
the story of who I am.

It is written
It is written....

Copyright©All rights reserved~ Leonila 2015

My first poem written in 2015.
Wyatt Jun 7

Our youth was our best chance
to make it big and set out
on adventures that last
the rest of our lives.
I missed the train, overslept
and now life's alarm screams
in my ears, reminding me
that I'm in over my head.
I should have stayed in bed.

This news that my adulthood begins with no allies
or a single plan
didn't meet me well.
I'm hiding out now
trying to slip my way
out of this one.
I'll think about it,
the blur that was our youth
when I've withered in my old age.
I should have done more,
now I can't do anything.
I'll write a thousand more
depressing pieces that prove
I still haven't gotten over it
and I still have not even
the slightest clue what to do
at the end of a blur we called youth.

The universe confounding, plans of mice, and men
it's not confined to where, just events, of how, and when

Fate throws a monkey wrench, into all cogs, and gears
destroying the machinery, confirming doubts, and fears

Murphy was an optimist, I've hear that said before
offered up the obstacles, blocking all, and any open doors

The wreckage and destruction, will never be forgot
plans that yielded nothing, amount too, diddly-squat

Yup, just when ya thought it was done, or fixed, or repaired, or planned BOOM! :\
blue Apr 20

it's almost like we
glow in every moment now
i feel like we're stars

i didn't think i had the ability to ponder possibility anymore. but here i am, laying in bed, thinking of the future. i want to offer you, and only you, forever. however long forever lasts, (i wouldn't know i've never been) you can have mine.

we're floating in air
our feet never touch the ground
my heart knows the way

split into a better person i want to empty my veins and give you all i've got. i want you to see that time is endless. with you, i am suspended in time. although, we could have every day for the rest of our lives, but that still wouldn't be enough for me. i want eternity- is that too much?

i want careful love
but i also want to be reckless
i'll blossom for you

you say that you don't want to leave me, so you want to go, in two years to college in-state. i love that i'm someone that you want to change the path you take for. two years is a long time from now though and i'm scared we're too young to plan that far ahead. i'm scared of everything these days.

i'm afraid your mind
will change the moment my eyes
are closed - scared to blink

Francie Lynch Mar 17

We sketched it out,
Construed an outline
With bullet points;
Worked on the draft,
Fashioned the conclusion
While forming an introduction,
And through infusion,
Developed an argument.

From thesis to synthesis
We entered the plot,
Quite sure of twists,
Not knowing the costs.
Our assay would go
Something  like that.

Plodding forward
Through antithesis,
The crises, decisions,
Then the denoument.

In conclusion,
To summarize:
The vacant character
Of my eyes,
Was the climactic dowfall;
Your hero dies.

The final draft
Was finely crafted,
Something just like that.

assay, not essay

Have Focus

Make Plans

No Fear

Try Something

Something New

Go Somewhere

Move Around

Try Again.

Rachel Dyer Jan 18

I tried to run away to a far away land,
where the grass was greener,
and the responsibilities leaner.
I ran from the ghosts,
I ran to foggy coasts.
I ran from the memories.
I ran from our mistakes.
I wanted a new me, whatever it takes.
But life, as she often does, had a different plan in mind.
Now I have to say I'm a little less blind.
I have discovered my god,
no not the one you're thinking of.
I found "it" in the history here.
I connected to souls I now hold dear.
I found solace in the here-after in the stones of cathedrals.
I found hope in stone glass windows.
I found peace in battlefields.
I also found pain.
It poured down like rain.
It took my breath away,
trying my best to keep the night at bay.
I no longer fear the ghosts back there.
I fear being stuck in the metaphorical here.
I've now been unwanted,
seen a love be haunted.
I've finally stood up for myself.
Even if they think I have totally fallen off the shelf.
I have embraced my flaws,
finding the power in their claws.
I have gained respect for those waiting for me.
I have learned a new definition of free.
I learned it isn't in the lack of responsibility
but in my magnificent ability.
I find freedom in the doing,
in the dream I'm pursuing.
Here I am.
Tired of fighting.
Tired of running.
Flying home.

Rachel Dyer Jan 13

It is a strange feeling...
to not belong.
Like all your layers are peeling.
Like every decision you make is wrong.

I miss everyone who has ever loved me.
I miss that feeling of my soul being warm.
I am just about as far away as I could be.
All my plans are lacking form.

I am a shapeless human,
without a mission, without a plan.
My soul has cracked just enough to let the gloom in.
Wanting to be strong, not knowing if I can.

My biggest fear was always weakness,
but it seems now that is all I am.
My newest personality characteristic is meekness.
But maybe I'm not supposed to give a damn...

Maybe that's what I was supposed to learn.
That not all our dreams fly.
Sometimes our efforts just burn.
That you can do whatever you want, is a lie.

That it is ok to let go.
It is fine to be weak, to lose.
That I can rise once more from this low.
That I will sing gospel after the blues.

Today all carp are swimming high
in swirling waters.  Autumn
calls them to flip sideways and glance skyward

Industrious people prepare homes
for the ravages of winter
cocooning foundations with bales of straw

Storm windows prop against scaffolds
like volumes balancing
between bookends on library shelves

Each evening doors close and shut tight
locking out lonely shadows
in search of a bed before sunrise

Skin dark from summer rays fade away
Evenings edge closer to night,
fish form schools in the lake’s warm bottom

Dakota is preparing for winter

Memories from my childhood
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